


Man in Black (Rough Draft) (EAD)

by WaterSoter



Series: WaterSoter's 2018 Evil Author Day, [1]
Category: NCIS, Numb3rs, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men (Original Timeline Movies)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers (2012), Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abuse, Child Death, Crossover, Discussion Of Murder, Disturbing Themes, FemAntonia "Toni" DiNozzo, Gen, Genderbending, Genderswap, Graphic Description, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, Minor Character Death, Murder, No Beta, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Permanent Injury, Rough Draft, Torture, WIP, canon AU, dark themes, discussion of other trigger topics, not Iron-Man 2 compliant, not Iron-Man 3 compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-19 05:45:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13698069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaterSoter/pseuds/WaterSoter
Summary: After the attack on New York, Don is called back to SHIELD with one very important assignment, wrangle the Avengers and be their Bulwark against the many interests that want a piece of them. Numb3rs/Avengers/X-Men O3/NCIS Crossover.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story is placed in a AU that I created and am working on. It's a crossover with NCIS, Numb3rs, X-Men Movieverse O3, Avengers MCU, Hawaii Five-0 and Criminal Minds though it mostly takes place in the MCU. I'm ignoring everything that came after Iron-Man 1, in the Iron-Man Movieverse, so no Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, just the awesome friendship we saw in the first movie. Also the character of Rhodey is played by Terrence Howard, from Iron-Man 1 and not Don Cheadle who replaced him. This story ignores everything that happens after the Avengers 1, so no Hydra using SHIELD as their own personal playpen or Coulson leading his covert team, so no Inhumans.
> 
> This story is mostly gen. There are two genderbent characters, Antonia "Toni" DiNozzo from NCIS and Danielle "Dani" Williams from Hawaii Five-0. Both are always female in my story. In this story the main crossovers are Numb3rs with Don Eppes, Avengers MCU with the team and characters from that verse, X-Men Movieverse O3 Scott Summers/Cyclops and NCIS with femToni DiNozzo. Don, Toni and Scott are mutants and Scott's also has psionic powers and an expansion of his concussive energy. Expect different origins for Toni, Don, Clint and Scott. Toni DiNozzo is played by Jessica Biel.
> 
> For more of my fanfiction story covers you can go here: https://watersoter.deviantart.com

Art by WaterSoter  
  
*O*O*O*

  
Don never thought he would ever see anything like that. As every television, computer and screen capable of displaying the news shone in the bullpen, he took note of the horrified looks, the fear, twisting faces and making trained agents huddle together like children during a bad thunder storm.   
  
Like Charlie had when he thought there were monster under his bed or in his closet and had snuck into Don’s room and into his bed for protection. He glanced at his baby brother, off in their usual offices. Amita and Larry flanking him, wide eyed and his parents sitting and clutching at each other. The remains of the lunch they had brought them scattered on the table.   
  
He should be there with them. With his family as their world was turned upside down and blown to bits. Larry would probably have something philosophical to say about the existence of aliens but for the moment, they were probably too scared too think about anything else.   
  
Grateful as he was that they so happened to be there, today of all days, at the time of the attack and when the offices had gone into lockdown. When _every_ government office and HQ had gone into lockdown. He also wished they weren’t there. On one of the places that would be ground zero in case of an organized attack.   
  
Don focused back on the tv screen. The things, ugly sons of a bitch, flew in the sky on some kind of sled, shot people in the streets. The giant worm-whales knocking buildings down with barely a flick of a tail. A lot of NYPD getting cut down as they tried to direct and protect civilians. He spotted people in dark suits, guns out and firing and doing about as much damage as a BB gun on a tank.   
  
SHIELD was out there. He knew it. Ran his fingers over the screen of his phone. A half a dozen numbers floating in his head. Answers a call away. Answers he wanted, badly. Orders he would settle for. Should he find his way out of there and try to make his way to New York? Should he stay put on stand on? Where the others?  
  
Then there was a familiar red blast, taking two hover sleds down. No sign of where it came from but Don knew and felt some of the tension ease off his shoulders. He kept looking but it was the only sign of red power anywhere but it didn’t mean anything. Most of these videos were coming from people on the ground, running or hiding for their lives, up on buildings as they stupidly strayed toward windows instead of taking cover.   
  
News crews were reporting from the edge of some unofficial evacuation perimeter. But Don thought that there were a few idiots that had hunkered down in the attack zone and hadn’t even made an effort to get out. The story too big for some people, even if it meant that they were putting their lives, and the lives of first responders at risk for a damn scoop.   
  
More police officers getting people out. He winced as two national guardsmen were crushed by falling debris. There was a rumble and another building went down. God, his mind was doing calculations despite himself. The numbers were already beyond anything he had ever heard of outside a major natural disaster or all out war.   
  
He felt a presence on his left and saw out of the corner of his eye as Megan and David came over. Megan’s skin was several shades whiter and the lines around her eyes and mouth were like deep grooves, aging her by at least a decade. David’s face could had been carved from stone for all the emotion it showed, but Don noted the way his hands shook. Small, almost unnoticeable tremors that belied whatever calm he was trying to project. How he held himself just slightly closer to Megan and Don now that he was within touching distance.   
  
They were scared, Don knew, but were trying to keep it from showing, be pillars in a mess of a situation. They’re going to be good leaders, Don thought. Pride like a bright fluttering in his chest. Then more screams, more death and Don wanted so very badly to be there. He could make a difference there much more than he was doing in these offices, in locked down and stand by.   
  
Then Don saw something small pierce the air, and one of the aliens. Red hair flash at a distorted distance. “They’re rumors that Iron-Man is in the air.” Megan said, her voice steady and eyes riveted to the screen. “I haven’t seen it but Melendez said she saw it a couple of minutes ago.”  
  
Don glanced at her even as he tried to remember where Stark was supposed to be this week. Something he kept an eye on more out of habit than any real interest in the guy. Stark was out in Malibu and usually kept his insanity out of Don’s jurisdiction but it was always a good idea to know where that walking disaster was on any given day.   
  
“I thought Stark was in Malibu?” David asked as Don saw another metallic streak, this time followed by an explosion. It took effort to stop himself from smirking. Especially when Natasha did one of her impressive areal maneuvers and put an alien, which was at least twice her size and thrice her weight, down, hard.   
  
“He bought a building in New York.” Something went zooming through the air and lightning fell from a clear sky.   
  
“Guys!” Colby came running, a wide-eyed look that wasn’t at all what Don expected in a situation like this one. Although from what he was seeing, things weren’t as bad as he thought. At least he hoped so. SHIELD seemed to have something up its sleeve and he knew of three people he would trust with his family’s lives were there already.   
  
Colby grabbed the remote, changed the channel to the annoyance of several agents. “Check it out!” And then Don saw it. They were replaying a scene from the battle, something the channel Don had chosen hadn’t done. The reason Don had picked in the first place since he wanted to see things on real time not minutes, or even an hour after the fact.   
  
Of course Don forgot about the whole thing when the scene played out. Mostly it was the man in a very familiar suit. Moving at speeds and with an agility that couldn’t be normal. Taking down a dozen of the aliens then reaching out as a round disc bounced of several things and came back like a boomerang.   
  
“Is that . . .” David trailed off, awe in his voice.   
  
Don wasn’t so sure, but watching the living embodiment of America and American heroes stand in the middle of a new battle ground. The red, white and blue of his universe a more modern take than that of comic books, trading cards and old, colored reels from WWII.   
  
There was headlines speeding at the bottom of the screen, but the main headline, stamped on the scene like a mark of authenticity. Don let the possibility of success turn into certainty. A childish, perhaps, belief molded from childhood then solidified through years of exposure to an unshakable faith. Don read the headline and felt a relief so profound that his knees went shaky.   
  
_Captain America, back from the grave and fighting for America once again._


	2. Chapter 2

Cover Art by WaterSoter

*O*O*O*

Dr. Scott Summers wrapped another gash. A splint to stem bleeding to save stitches. It was the right mentality he reminded himself as the man under his hands gave a piercing wail, before falling into breathy whimpers.  
  
His wife hovered, fluttering hands wanting to touch. Covered in soot and debris as she was, Scott preferred her as far away from his patient as possible. He had such a limited supply and help didn’t seem to be making its way this near ground zero yet. It could be hours before any of the injured were taking to any sterile medical facility. Maybe even days. Hospital would be saturated with the injured. Triage stations were probably already being set up.   
  
Scott glanced over at the dinner where he’d set one up his own station. Uniformed cops putting their first aid training to good use. Civilians helping comfort the wounded. Mostly at the dozens of people in various states scattered around. He’d divided them up based on level of injuries, but the critical section kept getting larger and larger.   
  
He tightened the makeshift splint. Did some calculations in his head. Shock, considerable blood loss. At least two liters. Late forties. History of cardiac problems. He had maybe three hours before infection set in, two hours more then sepsis. He ran his hands carefully over the laceration. Considerable muscle and nerve damage. Shattered tibia.   
  
The man was going to lose his leg.   
  
If Scott had the time he might try for a field amputation. If he thought the man's changes of surviving it with limited pain killers and no anesthesia. No. Scott saw the wife wrangle her hands. Dried blood with the gray covered her from head to toe. This woman was going to lose her husband. Scott grabbed her hand, tried not to flinch at the contact and placed her hand in her husband’s.   
  
She gripped the hand tightly, understanding far more about the situation than Scott thought she could with that simply gesture. Fat, ugly tears flew from her eyes but she didn’t sob. Instead she just leaned down to a husband who couldn’t possibly hear her through his own delirium. Spoke in gentle tones, running a careful hand over his hair.   
  
Scott stood and took in the tableau. It should make him feel sad or some other obvious emotion, instead he just felt tired. Pulled off bloody surgical gloves. Nowhere dump them, not safely. He settled with placing them in one of his own bio hazard bags. He’d been at this for three hours straight, and that was after a grueling battle. The only thing keeping him on his feet was the knowledge that he was probably the only qualified surgeon in this area. At the moment. No matter how useless those skills may turn out to be in the long run.   
  
“Is he going to be alright?” He turned to see a young blond waitress staring down at the man and his wife. She seemed familiar but Scott couldn’t place her at the moment. Not an enemy operative, though. Those were seared into his memory. Names, faces, allies, distinguishable marks.   
  
“No.” He said and glanced over at one of the large windows that overlooked the wrecked street and store fronts. At civilians, cops and other first responders that were helping pull people out of ruined cars and buses, rubble of collapsed buildings.   
  
“Hey,” A hand on his shoulder made him flinch. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize.” The waitress dropped her hand. Assuming, wrongly, that she had hurt him. Inadvertently touched an injury that was hidden by his black jacket. He made no move to correct her. Better for her to assume that, especially if it kept her from doing it again.   
  
“Do you have any hand sanitizer?” He motioned to the dust that covered the entire establishment despite best efforts to clean it. “Or somewhere I can wash my hands?”  
  
The later would be better but the former more convenient. When multiple patients meant moving from one to another with little regard for sanitation. He had plenty of surgical gloves and alcohol to disinfect his instruments. But it still felt wrong not to wash his hands thoroughly between each patient. Habits ingrained first from medical school, residency then surgical rotation.   
  
“Um, there’s a sink in the kitchen and bathrooms in the back.” She ran her hand down her apron, leaving a small cloud of dust in its wake. “Oh, here.” She handed over a bottle of water. Precious commodity in what was currently a disaster zone.   
  
He took it and once he made sure the seal hadn’t been broken nor tampered with, took long gulps of tepid water. Not the most appetizing thing in the world, but he hadn’t anything to eat since the early lunch he took between rotations. Didn’t think about the appendectomy he missed. Nor the metastatic brain tumor removal he was supposed to scrub into.   
  
The first was common enough, the second had been something he'd been looking forward to. Embedded as it was near the cerebral cortex. The complexity of it, the challenge, it was the kind of surgery every surgical fellow much less resident would kill for.   
  
Scott drank more water. Hunger an itch that grew and spread like an infection under his skin. He finished the bottle, considered asking for another but knew that food and water would be the most essential. For survival, for his patients, for civilians lingering on the streets in a daze and shock.   
  
“Do we have blankets?” Outside a pair of teenagers brought a woman over. She was bloody and clearly in pain by the way her face contorted which each step. He watched as a officer crept out from the diner and helped bring her inside. They were going to run out of room before they ran out of injured.   
  
The waitress ran both hands down her apron, realized the futility of the gesture a moment later when her hands came off more covered in soot then they had been. She glanced at the door as it chimed in a cheerful tune when it opened. The welcoming sound incongruous among the devastation outside and makeshift field hospital they’d made the diner into.   
  
“Dr. Summers!” Scott sighed as he looked down at his nails, encrusted thickly with grime. At his pants that had flakes of blood and other bodily fluids. Closed his eyes and let his mind’s shields thin, let him _know_ , as he always knew and didn’t always want to.   
  
Caucasian female, thirty one, runner since a young age, previously broken femur, previously cracked skull from falling down a mountain trail, he took a deep breath and stopped. The world spun for a moment and he felt the hands of the waitress reach for him as he swayed in place. Pulled back, needed the distance, needed firmer ground. He breathed, forced the walls of his mind back in place with a painful snap.   
  
Scott opened his eyes to worried blue, blue eyes. Young but not so young. Only a baby face, like his, but there was years and years of life in those eyes. “Blankets?” He reiterated. It made the waitress blink, probably at his abrupt tone. Internally grimacing, Scott moved toward the woman and the officer that was waiting for him expectantly.   
  
“Beth,” someone said from behind him. Scott turned toward the waitress, eyes like flints even as she moved towards the back of the diner. She came back, hands full of worn clothes, rags and other things that would be good enough to prevent shock from setting in. She dumped them on a table and started clearing an area for him to work at. “My name, Beth Johnson.”   
  
Scott didn’t shrug. That would be rude and while he didn’t purposely go out of his way to be blunt, he just often came off that way. So he nodded, sharply before going to the woman, who wasn’t as badly off as some of his other patients. But not in great shape either.   
  
They moved her towards the pile of rags. Scott grabbed his first aid kit and ignored the growing pounding at his temples. There was a lot to do, more people to try and save. By the end of the day, bodies would litter the streets. Scott, however had no intention of letting the people inside the diner become part of that body count. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter I have written so far for this story. It's very raw since I haven't had the change to edit it at all. So be warned. :D

Cover Art by WaterSoter

*O*O*O*

Don shuffled through his briefcase, counting files he would need as they drove through the ruins of downtown New York. Everything was there, the same as it had been on the plane, and before that and before that. When it was first handed over to him like they were handing the codes for every nuclear weapon on the planet. And maybe they were. In a way they were just as dangerous.   
  
Finally satisfied, he sat back and watched the horrible scenery pass them by. He’d seen all the reports, the photos in the papers and magazines. Everything that was possibly available and it still didn’t come close to the reality of it.   
  
New York looked like a war zone. The piles of rubble where buildings had stood, entire pieces of buildings missing like something big with a lot of sharp teeth had taken a large bite out of them. Police and national guardsmen and about any type of law enforcement was out in full force. Even SHIELD, who normally kept to the shadows displayed their emblem openly.   
  
He saw the suits and the uniforms. Mostly when it came to dealing with the alien tech and wasn’t that going to be a headache. God knew how many of it had already grown legs and made it across borders and continents. The black market was going to be saturated with the stuff and the day-to-day law enforcement agencies wouldn’t have anything to fight it.   
  
Not his problem right, he reminded himself. He had his orders and his mission that was going to be enough of a challenge in of itself. He gripped the handle of his suitcase again. Tempted to riffle through the files one more time. Bad habits. Nervous habits that he hadn’t quite been able to stifle even after all these years.   
  
A part of him expected Coulson’s wry glance out of the corner of his eye. A dry comment about bad habits and exploitable weaknesses. A constant when he’d been a junior agent placed under a more experienced supervisor.   
  
Don swallowed past the lump in his throat. Focused on the window and the bright orange vests of the construction crews. It looked like the closer they got to ground zero, the more of them there were. Mostly he tried not to think about he surveillance videos from the helicarrier. There would be time for that later. Right now he prepared himself for a situation that could go very wrong if he misstepped or misspoke.   
  
“Traffic’s a bit backed up right now, sir.” His driver said. A kid that probably drew the short straw or had pissed someone seriously badly to get that assignment. Don caught the twitchy dark eyes and fidgety way he shifted his hands on the wheel and tried hard not to roll his eyes.   
  
Rookies.   
  
Don sighed. Wished that Hill hadn’t assigned someone driving him. It would had been faster if he drove. Not to mention it would give him something to do other than letting him mind wander.   
  
“That’s fine.” He thought for a moment then added, “It’s not like they’re expecting me.” With a bit of a wry tone of his own. Of course the kid’s lips didn’t even twitch. Instead shifted in his seat like he was thinking about jumping out of the car and making a break for it.   
  
What the hell had people been saying about him? The kid couldn’t had been around when Don was still an agent. He looked barely out of puberty with that soft face and wide eyes. Don pegged to be around twenty five if that.   
  
“Relax, kid. I don’t usually bite unless provoked.” Okay, that went down about as well as that time Clint challenged their team to a game of helicarrier tag. To say Fury and the brass hadn’t been amused was an understatement. For a year and a half after, Fury had made sure they got the kind of missions that had even Clint whining like a little girl.   
  
Don’s hand snaked for his suitcase, stopped, then spread them flat over his thighs. The kid kept sneaking glances over at him. Don watched as people were redirected away from certain streets. Cars searched. Memorials set up all throughout the worst hit blocks. Didn’t glance at his watch no matter how much he wanted to.   
  
Even as Stark Tower loomed ahead, Don forced himself to relax. Soon, he was going to be dealing with the kind of personalties that should never be near each other, much less be able to work in a cohesive team. That they had, was making Don twitchy. Dossiers, personality and psych profiles and the only thing Don really knew about any of them, was that when it counted, they came through.   
  
Don honestly had no idea what to make out of any of that. 

*O*O*O*

_I need to get the I.T. department two tons of cheetos._ Don thought wryly as he stood by a floor to ceiling window. Watching a normally breathtaking view of New York city and Manhattan as a whole. _Maybe a case or two of red bulls._    
  
They had certainly earned it. Don stood in something that looked like a hastily put together conference room. Except there was nothing hasty about the circular, metallic table at the center. Don was no expert but he thought that the small, barely noticeable dots on the table and on the ceiling were meant to create some kind of holograph.   
  
The chairs were thickly upholstered with a soft material. And what looked to the naked eye as just the typical metallic gray was something else entirely. Don had ran his hand over them and he didn’t know of any kind of alloy that was comfortably warm to the touch. All of it placed in a raised platform.   
  
More than that, it was the way everything in the room was placed. A long, wrap around couch near the windows, sunk into the floor. A glass and mirrors mini bar to one side and a set of tables with what he thought were frame of those hologram computer screens. Purposeful, comfortable, made for a team and not for a bachelor. Set a few floors down from the penthouse which in the original blueprints, not the _official_ ones, was Stark’s personal playpen. Not like his personal lab, or the many other spots where he went to break the laws of physics and engineering.   
  
He looked out the window, at the horrible destruction that even after three weeks, were like deep scars in the city. It was bad enough seeing it from ground level but up there, removed by stories and distance, it was somehow worse. Empty spots where buildings stood. Cranes doing repairs or prepping for demolition.   
  
Don touched the cool glass. 1,237 and rising. People in comas, critical condition, missing and bodies still being pulled out of ruble and collapsed subway tunnels. _Dani should be out there_ , Don thought. With her matter manipulation powers she could had saved a lot of people. _And exposed her and her family to people they really didn’t want knowing what any of them could really do.  
  
_ Thought of Gracie and little Jackie, what people would and could do with mutant kids with those kinds of powers. Shook his head. It wasn’t going to happen and Don needed to stay focused. Especially when the ding of elevator broke the silence of the room with all the subtly of a bomb. Equally subtle was the parade of mismatched people that was spit out.   
  
Don didn’t turn around, instead watched through the window’s reflection as Steve Rogers led the way, shield in hand and wearing something his _grandpa_ would had worn. And then only over grandma’s dead body. The lady always picked his clothes and the man either liked it or he was sleeping on the couch.   
  
Flanking him on his right was Stark in a ratty, grease strained t-shirt. How a guy with that much money wear something even the homeless wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole. On the other side was Thor and Don needed a moment to take him in. The guy was a _prince_ , near immortal in a pair of jeans, a t-shirt two sizes too small. His hammer in one hand and a _pop tart_ in the other.   
  
Behind him were Clint and Nat, putting completely at the rear and completely hidden by built and height. Don caught Clint’s eyes, the twitch of surprise in them, turning cool with suspicion. It stung, he could admit that, to have someone he considered as close as a brother look at him like a potential enemy. Par of the course at SHIELD but Don didn’t have to like it.   
  
Natasha was perfectly poised and calm. Nothing out of place. Not her curled red hair nor her perfectly applied make-up. In that Toni and Nat were a lot alike. Both used their looks and appearances as a pretty deadly weapon. But while Toni would had smirked in a nasty way seeing him there, Nat showed nothing. No tells unless you knew her well enough.   
  
And Don did.   
  
It was in her body, the line of her shoulders, the slight, barely imperceptible jerk when she recognized him. In the way her fingers moved just so closer to one of the many weapons hidden on her person.   
  
When the doors to the elevators slammed shut, then, and only then did Don turn around. That brought Rogers short. Probably had been ready to pound his head with that shield of his before he noted the suit and badge. Was that the original?   
  
“Nice suit. Does Fury buy in bulk or is this some fashion fab that’s been going on since the fifties? Because I gotta tell you, boring is so out this season.” Stark said he waved the hand around that _wasn’t_ covered in a million dollar gauntlet. And, incidentally, a blaster that could probably cut him in half with a flick of Stark’s wrist.   
  
Don _didn’t_ roll his eyes at the worn pun. He also didn’t stare, _pointedly_ , at Stark’s ratty clothes. The ones that looked like one good, stiff breeze could easily shreds to pieces. Instead, channeling Coulson’s bland, professional tone he said, “I’m Agent Don Eppes from the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division,” He couldn’t help the face he made at the mouthful. God, couldn’t someone had come up with something better? Or at least shortened it by now?  
  
“and I’ll be your -” He hesitated on the word handler, pretty sure the word wouldn’t go down well with this particular crowd, “- _liaison_ with SHIELD.” And the DoD, the DoJ, the Army, the WSC, and anyone else that wanted a piece of them, which, currently, was everyone. The last brief he’d gotten had included alphabet agencies in places Don couldn’t even pronounce. Wouldn’t know _where_ they were even if someone gave him a map with big, fat red xs marking each one of them.   
  
There was a charged silence that lasted way more than Don expected before Rogers and Stark exchanged glances. Stark shrugged and went off to the side to the mini bar, leaving Rogers standing in what was probably the most awkward position Don had ever seen. Unbelievable.   
  
At least the rest of them weren’t complete assholes. Thor clapped Rogers on the back before he too went to grab something out of the mini bar. Banner slumped at the farthest seat in the room without either melding into the wall or getting back onto the elevator. Clint and Natasha joined him after a second of that creepy eye to eye communion they did. It wasn’t as bad as Toni and Clint, or Toni and Scott or any combination of the three, but still.    
  
“So, is this Fury’s incredibly unsubtle to satisfy his BDSM fetish? Oh don’t look at me like that. The whole leather therefor I am was a how-to of dressing for the life.” Don didn’t know what face he was making but he was sure it must’ve been somewhere between disgust and the kind of horror that would make lesser men jump out the nearest window.   
  
Point in fact, Don considered asking for a lobotomy to get _that_ image out of his head. “But no, seriously. Because I gotta tell you, the whole chains and cages really doesn’t appeal to me. Neither, I’m afraid, does someone trying to get at my good stuff, if you know what I mean.” Don wanted to have a moment, because this was worse than the time he caught him mom and dad in the kitchen doing things that he never wanted to know they did. Ever.   
  
A muttered “BDSM?” from the Captain had Don feel a well of sympathy for the guy. What it had to look like, almost a full century later, just with the technological advances that had been made. Don had grown up with the steady streaming of computers and cell phones and internet. He still froze, even after seeing it with his own eyes, at the sci-fi inspired stuff that kept propping up every year.   
  
“Trust me, cap, you don’t want to know.” Clint muttered, those eagle eyes of his intent on Don. And Don got it. He did. For a handful of them, there was equally a small number of people that would be sent to deal with them. If they ever went off the rails, went rogue or some higher up decided that they needed ending.   
  
Don watched him right back. Noted how sunken his eyes looked, the dark circles around them that made him look like a raccoon. The pallor. How he held himself unnaturally still and not like when he was on missions. Or on his nest. This held too much tension, rigid even as he tried to make it look natural. Slumped against the table the way he was, it would had. If Don hadn’t _known_ Clint.   
  
“No, Mr. Stark. This isn’t about some _fetish_ ,” Don nearly chocked on the word. He glanced over at Stark. Captain Rogers still looked confused but at least he was hiding it better. “the director may have.”  
  
He looked right at Clint, “I was _sent_ here,” He added the special emphasis on sent and saw as the realization hit home. Saw Clint nearly slump as the tension left his shoulders. Natasha place her hands on the table away from her many hidden weapons. Good, message received. “to help SHIELD work with _you_. And you with them.”   
  
He motioned to the room, at them, outside where a lot of people were still looking for loved ones that might never be found. Or not found in any recognizable way. “This invasion is probably not going to be a regular thing.” He hoped it wouldn’t be a regular thing, “but it sure as hell put us on a map we really didn’t want to be on.”  
  
Rogers, quick even as Banner muttered a few things under his breath, cleaned his glasses. As Stark downed the contents of his glass. Thor nodded sharply, arms crossed and was that a pop-tart on his other hand? Rogers said, “Fury thinks there’s going to be more attacks.”   
  
“Earth had been previously an unknown, but what my brother has put in motion would no doubt call upon mighty warriors and enemies alike upon you.” Thor took a bite of his, yes, he was eating a pop-tart. “Why have have assembled upon Stark’s dwelling, if not to deal with these threats as they come?”  
  
“Easy there, point break,” Stark seemed ready to prepare another drink, then thought better of it. Dumped the glass on the bar with a hard smack. Don winced, and wondered if the surface had cracked. “before we go off on one of Fury’s crusades, I would like to know what exactly is in it for us? Well me in particular but here’s me trying for the whole team thing, go us!”  
  
“It’s not the director’s crusade, Mr. Stark,” Don stepped a little closer to them, hoping that it would made it seem like this was less a us vs him situation. When no one stepped back or got aggressive, Don figured it was as good as he was going to get. “But there’s a lot of bad guys out there and while we’ve kept them in the down-low so far, no one thinks that that’s going to continue after this.” Don pointed at the still healing New York skyline for emphasis.   
  
He went and grabbed at a tablet Toni had given him. It was supposed to be able to sync up with Stark’s tech so he handed it over to him. “Three days ago, off the coast of Somalia a giant, mechanical, squid robot came up and tore seventeen fishing boats to shreds.” Curious now, Stark placed the tablet at a table and with a flourish, sent the information into several computer screen that Don could swear hadn’t been there. “It killed seven people and left eight more injured.”  
  
“Huh,” Stark muttered, then when Banner went over to him, the two got lost in their world of techno babble that went so over Don’s head they might as well be on Mars.   
  
Don left them to it. “Two weeks ago someone set off every nuclear weapon in China.” That had been pleasant, according to Toni. Three agents got exposed to enough radiation to need regular cancer check ups for probably the rest of their lives. “I can keep going but I think you get the gist of it.”  
  
Rogers nodded, “So what exactly does Fury want with us, Agent Eppes? None of us are exactly spies or assassins.”  
  
“Ah, you forgot Legolas and our very own crimson Widow.” Added Stark then went back to studying the footage, this time of a dozen golden spiders the size of small cars.   
  
“Right,” Rogers finally placed the shield down, on the table with a strange sounding ding. Then he crossed his arms over his chest and Don could understand why people followed this man into impossible situations. The way he looked at Don, with an air of authority that his dad would had envied, but mostly an air of expectation that demanded that Don answer and be straight with him.  How the hell had Fury managed to lie to this guy’s face again?  
  
“I know this might be hard to believe, Captain, but the director just wants you guys to keep doing what you guys are doing.” At the incredulous and almost simultaneous snorts from the geek squad, Don shrugged, “There’s going to be information packages, missions, but it’ll be up to you guys to decide if you go or not.”  
  
Don waited as they exchanged glances. Clint and Nat would be in. He wasn’t too sure about the others. Even the man who had represented the red, white and blue throughout his entire childhood.   
  
After a moments’ hesitation, Steve came forward, extending his hand. “No offense sir, but I think we’ll want that in writing.” Don nodded and took the strong grip, shook it. Had a completely fangirl moment in which Don wanted to encase his hand in acrylic and promise never to wash his hand again. The moment passed then he was shaking arms with Thor, who nearly took his arm off.   
  
Don nodded, sharply. His mind already on the very limited number of people he could trust with something like that. Even less since he didn’t even know who was still around and who had either retired, or been taken out in the recent attack.   
  
With an internal sigh he realized he would have to cash in a few favors he’d hope to keep under his hat for a bit longer. Worse, one of them was someone that could make dealing with Stark seem like a cakewalk. Stark at least wasn’t an expert in interrogation and mindfuckery that she loved to use with friend and foe alike.   
  
Don resisted the urged to run his hand through his hair. Looked at this team team. A volatile mix of personalities and not even a solid common goal to hold them together. About the only silver lining in this mess, was that the second person that he would need help with was one that would readily give it. And the kid at least would do it without making him jump through a dozen hoops just because he could. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I hope you guys liked this. The second scene was probably the hardest one I have ever had to write, ugh!!


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